2021-11-29 - Visiting the Chief

Fae and Chris rumbled north along single-lane Highway 101. The pickup's heater carries the strong scent of evergreen from the endless parade of them passing by their window at 60 mph. With a belly full of barbecue from lunch at the Firehouse, Chris occupies the driver's seat with his red lumberjack flannel. With an elbow on the windowsill and slinging a single arm over the top of the steering wheel, he's been joyous since walking out the door of their Oak Avenue house.

"Who names a town Humptulips?" he wonders aloud after a second glance toward the GPS. It was only a thirty-minute drive along the highway, and there's almost nowhere to turn off from the route even if he wanted to. "Did the tulips really have it coming to them? Can a flower consent to such acts?"

Fae's lips slink up her cheek, revealing a sweet dimple along with her grin. "That can't be the real name of the town." she asserts, because really...who would name a town Humptulips. "Is it?" she leans over, checking to the GPS just to make sure Chris isn't pulling her leg. "Hippies," she concludes, it had to of been those damn hippies. "It probably started as a hippy commune in the 60's, flower power and orgies, it just makes sense." there's a level of logic there that isn't her usual flavor of random but is still very much Fae.

"I think I would have been a hippy if I was alive back then, I bet being a hippy was super fun. I don't know about you though." her pale gray eyes shift over to Chris, is he the hippy type, probably not. "Would you have hung out in my Volkswagon if I invited you in to listen to Janis Joplin on my fancy new 8 track stereo?" she wonders, feeling the love.

Someone once said to never ask a question you don't already know the answer to; that guy was probably a real prick. In this case, though, Chris already looked up the place on Wikipedia while waiting for Fae to do her makeup, dry her hair, or whatever women do in the two hours spent in the bathroom.

"So it was named by the Native Americans who lived in this area, the Chehalis tribe. It means 'hard to pole' as a reference to the difficulty navigating the river with their canoes."

He gives a happy look out the front windshield as he steals frequent glances toward the woman at his right. "You would've made a great hippy. All you need is some tie-dye and LSD."

"Hard to pole?" well, that's probably very dependent on the person doing the poling, a guy as fit as Chris could probably pole that river down no problem. "Sounds like a canoe trip challenge to me. With your muscle and my impressive canoe steering skills, we could pole the heck out of that river." her chin raises a bit, feeling cocky about her capabilities to handle those hard to pole rapids.

Her hand touches her chest, her lips closing together as do her eyes, playing up the boast "I've got my senior paddling badge." she means kayaks and canoes, not actual seniors, you shouldn't paddle the elderly, it's not nice, no matter how much they misbehave. Be nice to the old hippies.

Segwaying back to the conversation regarding the generation of Woodstock she chirps in "I do like tie-die. I've always wanted to make tie-dye, but I bet it's a lot harder than it looks." it's really not, you can handle it, don't worry. "I'd be too scared to do acid though, what if I have a bad trip and I end up thinking I'm an otter for the rest of my life?" being perma-fried and delusional enough to believe you're a water weasel seems unlikely, but you can never discount the possibility of Fae's mind snapping and her just floating down a stream on her back.

"Did you know that otters hold hands while they sleep so they don't drift away from each other in the water?" that's super cute, I hope it's true, please don't ruin her perception If it's not.

"We're in a rainforest here on this side of the Olympics. People go whitewater kayaking in this part, I think. There are a few waterfalls." Chris explains, yammering happily about the imagery of boating the river. "It sounds like fun, if... incredibly cold. And we'd probably want an easier first trip together."

He makes a face about the hippy talk. "I don't think that really happens. At least not on any reasonable dose. Not really something I've tried, though, admittedly."

He adjusts his grip on the steering wheel as another mile marker sign whizzes by the window. They only had a short while longer to go before the turn-in to the address. "Did you know you can identify a female otter by the scars on her nose because the males will bite her there until she agrees to mate with them?" The play at chomping his teeth in the air isn't strictly necessary, but neither is enjoying life.

"You're not ready to dive into the extra cold deep end in the kayaking department?" Fae chortles mirthfully, staunching her giggling with her palm while a grin creeps up her cheek. "I mean, once it's a little warmer maybe. When we won't freeze to death because you've capsized both of us from playing bumper boats." she teases playfully.

Treading water back to the LSD comment Fae replies simply toss out. "I haven't even smoked weed before. I guess I wouldn't have made a great hippy. I'm too much of a..." her fingers outline a square in front of her. "...square." yeah, he gets it, you didn't have to say it, actually, maybe you did? Chris does seem pretty focused on the road most of the time, which is honestly a good thing.

That animal factoid catches a raised copper eyebrow. "Please don't bite my nose. I'll mate with you...just don't bite my nose." she deadpans, DTF but not DTR (down to rhinoplasty).

"Step one, buy a little paddling boat. Step two, still pondwater. Step seventeen, ice-cold whitewater," Chris explains with a sidelong glance and a flash of a smile. The remaining in-between steps shall remain shrouded in mystery.

He nods along to her explanation of drugs. "I can't say I have much experience in any of that, either. A lot of departments do random testing for those sorts of things. Something about being sober." Except for booze, apparently, which doesn't get any random screenings.

His chin inclines as he casts a wistful smile. "Maybe you'd really like nose-biting. You never know."

"Doesn't sound like my kind of kink." she quips spunkily, darting her eyes over to Chris. "Is there something you wanted to tell me? Are you trying to nip my nose? I'm onto you Mister." she circles her finger over in his direction, swishing a smile up her cheek.

"Seriously though, please tell me you're not into nose biting. I mean, I guess I'd try it but it sounds kinda painful and you saying 'got your nose' in the middle of us making love would only be funny the first couple of times." that smirk reaches up towards the roof of the trunk, the thought of Chris saying that after a nose bite was pretty amusing, she'd have to admit that.

Chris's brow furrows as he slows the pickup down and turns on the right turn-signal. "Do I look like an otter?" They hadn't even gotten to the proper town of Humptulips yet, inasmuch as there was a town. But there a chainlink fenced ranchhouse with a larger kennel area in the yard than there was a house, which could mean only one thing: it was puppy time.

He casts a suspicious look. "Don't answer that." He pulls the pickup onto the gravel driveway, and it slowly rumbles to a halt among the sound of barking dogs-- so very many barking dogs.

"Um, I don't know, that's like a gay term right? You know, like a bear, but not a bear...I don't know what an otter is though...but I'm pretty sure Robbie used to call himself that in High School..." her words trail as she looks out the window with a wide and excited gaze. "...he was the only gay kid we had." at least the only one who was out, being gay in little country towns is probably a rough life.

"Puppos! Chief! Here we come Chief!" she call out, chipperly clapping her hands together before barreling out of the trunk like a bolt of lighting. "I'm so excited!" we can tell, you're bouncing up and down like a crazy woman.

Was it? It wasn't something that Chris knows about. He shrugs his shoulders with bewilderment as he tugs the parking brake and lets out a slow exhale.

"It sounds pretty loud out there," he gives a nervous glance toward the kennel in the distance. One of the buildings seems to be dalmatian central, with an older spotted fellow gazing out from their enclosure and giving a discontented bark-- either to tell the others to shut up or as a warning to the strangers.

Emerging a distant second from the cab, the fireman stuffs his hands into the front pockets of his coat as an older country gentleman appears from the wooden gray ranch-house. "You here about the ad?" he questions at the front door. Once he receives an affirmative nod in response, he slips outside altogether, leaving the shotgun by the door inside. He heads toward the dalmatian kennel, giving a glance over his shoulder as he leads the couple.

"We have seven puppies left out of the twelve that Martha birthed." He opens the gate and out lumbers the older dalmatian, his head hung lower in recognition of his master. "This is Stetson. As you can see, they're purebreds."

A few more steps, and they're inside a wooden enclosure with some hay on the floor. A very tired bitch is nursing a handful of polka-dotted balls of fluff while the others are play-fighting in a big pile on the floor.

Fae's eyes trail over to that shotgun for a moment, she's not spooked or anything, that's pretty standard fare back home for people to greet you with a shotgun...but look at that thing, was that a lever action? Nice. "Wow." she murmurs to herself, greeting the older fella with a kindhearted wave as he comes up and shows them to the pin.

"They're all super duper cute." she gushes, already bending onto her knees to bet the pile of fluffs trying to get their last meal before they're stolen from their mother. Her vision scans through each of them, trying to figure out which is Chief through the multitude of spots. "What do you think babe? Whos our boy?" she checks with Chris, making sure they're both on the same page before she reveals her final verdict on which doggo is most certainly Chief.

Which, indeed? Some had white ears with spots, and others had black ears. They're all playful at this age, but some maybe more so than others around humans.

Chris, standing behind Fae and keeping her warm with his arms around her waist, gives a little nudge. "One way to be sure." He plants his butt on the floor, and a couple of the puppies immediately bound over to the man to give him a sniff and playfully nip at his shoelaces. It's not long before the others follow suit to investigate.

"One of these two," Chris declares. Chief must be, over all things, a leader, right? He holds out his hands to the floppy-eared puppos, who sniff and lick to their heart's content.

Another round of puppy deliberation goes on "I think..." she pets each one, then pets them both again, calculates. "This one is Chief, for sure. He's got a heart on his nose, so you know he's a...hearty guy." that joke deserves punishment. Chief has been chosen though, the deal is sealed. "Sorry not Chief, you'll get a good home soon though, don't worry." she consoles the runner up, snatching her dalmatian prize up into her arms.

"So cute, mommies widdle fur bwaby." damn it, she's already talking like that to it, it's all over, there isn't any going back now. "I love him." who doesn't he's impossibly cute and already licking her cheeks, so it seems like the love is mutual.

It isn't until the little attempted nip at Fae's nose that Chris starts cackling. "I think he likes you." He pauses to consider, "Wait, it is a he, right?" Quick glance. Yep.

"It sounds like we have our little firefighter," Chris turns to tell the man, who's already yanking out the certification papers from the folder, with instructions for registering if you want to pay all the fees. Probably not worth the bother with a dog destined for the snipper.

Chris produces two-hundred dollars in cash fresh from the ATM, which the rancher quickly stuffs into an inner pocket in his own coat.

"You folks enjoy, now," he tells the couple, with a smile that reads 'now get off my lawn.'

Taking the little tyke away from the yelps of his brothers and sisters is always hard, but who are we kidding? There was a puppy to play with!

"Hey, do you want to drive home?" Chris wags the keys to his pickup. The first time he'd ever asked her such a thing. Coincidence? I think not.

Turning directly at Chris, entirely dry and deadpan, Fae monotonously says. "Chief isn't old enough to drive." as if Chris was asking the dog, because he couldn't possibly be talking to her, she had a puppy in her hand and there was no way she was letting the thing go, even if it was so excitable that her nose might catch a little nip.

"We should have named you Otter." she grins, rushing on over to the passenger side door to secure her spot as the puppy handler for the journey ahead.

"I love you Tiger, you're the best." she coos, forcing Chris into the task of getting them home.

Chris can forget about getting any kind of attention on the way back home, but that doesn't stop him from beaming a happy smile the whole way past the evergreens. He doesn't stop in to see the sprawling metropolis of Humptulips, population 220, instead just heading back the way they came.

"I think Chief needs to go shopping." And they need supplies, like a leash, bowls, food, poop bags, and toys. Not to mention the dog outfits.

There's a persistent cloud of short white hairs about the little fuzz-ball. The black hairs might as well not exist. Every surface in the house and car will be covered in white. The little black hairs can only be revealed by wearing something white.

Did someone say shopping spree? At the mention of stopping off and getting Chief some goodies, she curls her lips upward. "Yeah, Otter needs some things, lots of toys, and maybe a sweater so he doesn't get too cold going outside to make boom booms." alright, please never call it boom booms again Fae, just don't.

The canine turns its ears back and forth trying to understand what's being said by its new owners at it's panting away from the adrenaline of all the new views the truck window provides. "We're going to get you all the most fun toys and treats," she assuringly beams. "Everything for our new fur baby."

"If he's too young to drive, then he's definitely too young to go outside to make boom booms," Chris points out matter-of-factly as he stretches out in his seat, slinging a hand over the wheel and lounging back; he was usually an upright posture kind of guy, but slouching let him spy on the puppy antics.

With the dog's interest in the window, Chris can't help but reach over and press the little down button on Fae's side. The window cracks enough for his head to peek out, and his mostly-black ears go flying like a couple of wings.

Catching his goofy face in the mirror amid the brisk breeze coming in the window at 60mph, Chris chuckles, "Maybe he's a derpy one after all."

"We're stuck with him now." she chuckles, watching the silly creature stare headfirst into the oncoming wind. "You're going to swallow a bug Otter, then what are we going to do." that time she actually seemed to use the wrong name for the tiny nose nibbler on accident. "I mean..uh, Chief." she corrects herself because naming a dog Otter would require more explaining than naming him Chief, also, what happens when there's an otter in the house? That would get confusing.

She watches quietly for just a beat while she pets along Chief's back, giving him a scritch here and there. "This is my favorite day ever." she announces to Chris, entirely certain that the title has been taken from when she won the regional championship for skeet shooting or that time she got to pet a sloth.

Chief Otter? Nah, that would just be weird.

"We've had some good ones, haven't we? The day of the doughnut run was a pretty good one too," Chris shares, reminiscing on a few happy moments from the past that seemed so very long ago now, like catching a touchdown.

He spares a glance over, "I hope he can hold it until we get to the store." Because he's totally going to pee all over the floor; those places always smell like dog pee.

"Are you gwonna pwee on the fwoor? Yes you are." Fae laughs, petting the puppy before he's prosecuted for his crimes against the local pet shop and taken to the pound. Hopefully, he doesn't get the shock collar for a single accident. "We probably should have bought a leash before so we could have taken him in, I guess I can run in and get one, and then we can take him in for the rest of the shopping." such logic, much wow.

She turns back to Chris, an ear to ear smile folding over her features. "So, drop by the pet store and then we'll head home so I can pay you back in lots of kisses for the best day?" she wiggles her eyebrows as she covers Chief's ears, you can't talk that way in front of the kids.

"I'm sure we can just carry him for a bit," Chris suggests, "Sometimes, they have little disposable ones to use by the door for those anti-leashers." The crazy anti-leash conspiracy theorists that claim leashes cause doggie autism. They're out there somewhere.

"I think we'll be busy puppy-proofing the house." Mental note: bitter tasting anti-chew spray.

A piggish snort echoes through the truck cabin, she wasn't aware that anti-leashers were a thing, "Speaking of anti-this-and-thats. should we get Chief's first round of shots? He'll probably need them in about a week or so right?" she wasn't sure if he might have already been given those, but it probably said somewhere on the paperwork since he had that pedigree.

Moving her arm just a touch so it's not assaulted by Chief's. ever wagging. tail she eagerly peeks out the window that has become mostly just dog butt at this point. "I think we're almost there Chief." she was as bouncy and excited at the puppy was. Luckily for Chris she didn't have a tail to slap him around with absently while she watched for the upcoming pet store.

They're almost certainly not, but that doesn't mean they can't make for a good punchline. "We can find him a vet, or a shot clinic or something. And give him the ol' snip-snip." Not even driving can prevent him from making the scissor motion with two fingers. As for records on the puppy, there's nothing but a certification that he's the offspring of some already-registered dogs. It's just a profit center for the breeder; easier to pass on all of those costs to the buyers. Hooray for puppy mills. But this dog has all the right spots, so all is forgiven.

The pet store is in the same strip mall plaza as their other retail destinations have been, but the town isn't big enough to have very many of them anyhow. "That thing is going to clear off some tabletops when he gets bigger," he warns with a smile. Soon, they're safely parked and both boys are eager to get out of the pickup and play. "You up for carrying the feisty guy?"

Grabbing up the doggo in her arms like a spotted little baby Fae bobs her head, she can probably manage to carry him, even if he's a bit rambunctious for a bit until the belly scratching starts up. "The poor thing hasn't even gotten home yet and you're already trying to steal his balls?" she grins, it's a thing that arguably needs to be done, Bob Barker was really adamant about it so it must have some merit right? "Poor baby." she sympathetically voices, offering extra belly pats at Chief stretches out showing the dalmatian family jewels that likely won't last much longer.

"We might have to enroll in one of those obedience classes if they offer that sort of thing, if you start them young they won't be jumpers when they're big boys." her arms rock the panting puppy back and forth as she cradles him. "You'll be the most well-behaved dog in the whole town and everyone will say 'That Chief, he's a good boy'"

Chris gives the pair of them an incredulous look as they cross the parking lot. "That early? Maybe we can start on not peeing on the floor of the house." The doggo receives some extra belly rubs, and so does the woman carrying him.

The double-doors slide open to a concrete-floored jungle of pet supplies, and Chris fetches a shopping cart from the area outside. "You know, I've acquired a newfound dislike of shopping carts," he mutters.

"Squeaky wheels are the stuff of nightmares now?" Fae smirks, it's best to just try and make light of the terribly traumatizing situations living in Gray Harbor puts people in, if you don't you're likely to lose your mind pretty quickly. The leash and collar section seems to be the first stop, that way Chief can get down and explore like he really wants to do so bad.

Those pale grey eyes are accompanied by Chiefs inquisitive nose as they both check out what's on tap "Should we get one of those nice harness kinds? That way he doesn't choke himself or something." scanning about she eyes one of the more expensive options on the rack "This one says it helps with leash training, it's kinda pricey though, do you think it really helps or is that a marketing thing so you'll pay $20 more for it?" these questions need answers, customer assistance in isle 3, please.

Chris asides in a low tone. "At least there aren't chainsaws." He sprawls out on the shopping cart as he pushes it around, eyeing the various pet owners with their furry fashion accessories. Or that one pit bull on a chain leash. Probably best stay away from that one and its owner, who's probably a drug dealer.

"I think one of the little adjustable ones ought to do fine for a leash," he suggests, picking up a medium-sized one that can expand or retract in length. He gives a thoughtful look at the harness, "Probably best to wait until we know if he's going to be a big puller. He's going to get much, much bigger, so anything he can use now is going in the trash in a few months."

"You're right, he'll probably double in size by the end of the day honestly." they grow up so fast. She holds a couple up to him before selecting a budget red one that has enough give that he'll at least be able to wear it for a bit. "This one should do it." she hums, plopping him down and capturing him in the dog bondage wear before he can escape, taking the tag off to hand to the cashier later so Chief can just wear his new fashion accessory out.

"And a matching leash." that's not hard to find, fire-engine red is a pretty standard color. "That'll do." snap and he's already peeing on the floor, well, we knew it was going to happen. "I can't even be mad at you, that was a pretty long car ride." she murmurs, handing the leash over to Chris while she goes to find some of those doggy clean up thingies on the endcap "I'll get that cleaned up."

"There's a good boy," Chris gives him some praise for being properly leashed, or maybe for peeing on the floor just like he predicted. He gets a good head rub before the puppy is dragging bot the man and his basket off toward the food aisle like some kind of puppy-drawn chariot.

Marveling at the 40-pound bags with the more than 40-pound price tags, Chris steers Chief toward some of the more budget options to appraise, but they're going to have to work on the puppy's decisiveness because he can't get a straight answer out of him unless "all of them!" counts.

"Oh, look, a sale!" and into the cart, the puppy food goes. It's one he's never heard of, which is a clear symbol of hipster quality-- that and being 40% off.

Mess clean up doesn't take too long, it's also pretty standard fare in the pet store so it's not like anyone really cares too much. Right afterward she's back at her man's side as he's getting puppy food. "Alright, so, a few toys and...maybe some nail clippers, those already look a little long." those poor poor hardwoods, they'll look like a battleground of scratches if Chris and Fae don't keep on top of nail maintenance.

"I feel like I'm forgetting something." her fingertip dots her bottom lip a couple of times as she considers, eventually just shrugging her shoulders and assuming she'll never remember. "Oh, a little thing of treats, you know, for training." yeah right, he's going to just be getting those all the time and they both know it.

By then, Chris is hoisting one of the modest-sized bags into the top of the cart. "We can always spring for the big old bag they have at Costco on our next run," he decides. Chief will just love Kirkland Signature dog food; he's sure of it.

The toys are treats are a little too close to the dog costumes for the man's comfort. Thankfully, Halloween is in the rearview mirror. He turns to try and block the terrible hot dog outfit from consideration with his body as they peruse puppy amusement.

"Somebody needs a squeaky toy! And those tennis balls! And just look at those bones to chew on." Look, over there!

Operations hide the hot dog is successful, she's none the wiser. "I think a big portion of the tennis ball industry is actually just dog toys." that's legit, I mean, who is buying tennis balls to play tennis...besides...you know...tennis players.

"Baby yoda squeaky toy!" she coos merrily, sure it's a couple more bucks, but Chief needs to follow in his father's footsteps. "Every Jedi's doggo needs that."

"You know they have to make it easy to tear the covering off and then bite in half to fatten their coffers," Chris wisely confers, taking a tube of the balls. Roger Federer never tore into a ball quite like that, but Martina Navratilova may have. She cray.

He eyes the Baby Yoda toy, conveniently omitting the dog Vader behind him. He didn't need his apprentice rising up to kill him anytime soon. "He's named Grogu now," Chris huffs in a manner as to spoil all the fun. That is until he squirrels the toy away onto their growing pile of puppy supplies.

"Spoilers!" Fae chuckles, loud enough to turn a few heads, before she covers her mouth and her cheeks turn a little pink from embarrassment. Yes Fae, other people exist in the world, take it down a notch. "Spoilers," she repeats, swatting Chris's arm playfully. Apparently, she isn't caught up on The Mandalorian.

A few other little things are grabbed before she checks over the cart "I think we've got a pretty good haul, lets head up and check out before I end up buying him the whole store." she giggles, already pulling out her debit card, she's paying for this, Chris paid for the dog so it's only fair she get all of this which will probably grand total to about the same amount as Chief was.